


Crescendo

by Flightless_Bird



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universes, Angst, Crying, Father-Son Relationship, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Multiverse, Other, Other Reality, Peter Needs a Hug, Tony is a good dad, angst with happy ending, happy ending!, i should add!, minor language, peter feels the other peter, references to endgame, universe-mind-sharing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 02:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18651484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flightless_Bird/pseuds/Flightless_Bird
Summary: “What’s going on?” Tony demanded.“I—I don’t know,” Peter stuttered through his tears. “I was at home, doing homework, and I—I got this feeling—oh God, Mr. Stark, it hurts.”Peter feels someone’s pain, his own and not at the same time.





	Crescendo

**Author's Note:**

> Thank god the multiverse is a thing and i can pick a universe and just live there in peace.  
> Endgame? What endgame? No endgame here, all i see is iron man and his son doing homework together. XD
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)

Peter was in his bedroom, of all places, when it happened.

It was a weekend, and May was out for the day, visiting a friend. So Peter was quite content to have the whole place to himself and work on a school project. He was sitting at his desk, copying down formulas in a notebook, when he realized that he’d left his calculator in his backpack. Pushing up from the chair, he started across the room to where he’d left it in front of his closet.

He was halfway there when a bolt of pain hit him like a car crash.

Choking off a gasp, he stumbled, hands coming up to clutch at his chest. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. It wasn’t—it wasn’t physical. It was searing shock, and desperation, and a fierce grief so powerful, it felt like it was bursting his ribcage apart. His eyes flooded with tears, throat constricting. He tried to stagger to his bed, but a fresh wave of it brought him down. Groaning, he collapsed to his knees and wrapped his arms around himself. _Oh god oh god oh god. What is—what—Is this a panic attack? What am I—?_

_Tony._

The name struck him, sank the blade farther into his heart, and Peter gasped out a sob. Oh. Oh, it _hurt_. Something was wrong, something had happened, it had happened to Tony, where was Tony, _where was Tony_?

Someone was whimpering pitifully and he realized that it was him. Fingers shaking violently, he reached into his jacket pocket for his phone. Just pulling up Tony’s name in his contacts brought fresh tears streaming down his face. It scared him more than anything.

Tony answered on the second ring. His voice came through, clear and strong, and Peter trembled. “Kid, if you tell me one more time about some lady buying you a churro, I’m gonna block your number.”

“ _Tony_ ,” Peter gasped out, clinging to the phone like a lifeline.

There was a shivering pause and it occurred to Peter that he’d never called Tony by his first name before. “What’s going on?” Tony demanded.

“I—I don’t know,” Peter stuttered through his tears. “I was at home, doing homework, and I—I got this _feeling_ —oh God, Mr. Stark, it _hurts_.”

“Did somebody hurt you?”

“No, no, it’s something else, it’s—it’s you.” Peter sobbed again. “Something happened to you, it was bad, Mr. Stark, it—”

“Okay, okay, slow down, kid. I’m okay, nothing happened to me. You can hear me, right?”

“Oh god, I dunno what I’m gonna…”

“All right, you stay right there, okay? I’m coming over.”

Peter took a breath to try and protest, but he honestly didn’t have it in him. Even if he could get the words out, he knew he wouldn’t argue. Not now. The very air was closing in on him, suffocating. Whatever was happening was building into a crescendo, freezing him in place with overwhelming fear. It felt like someone had closed a fist over his heart and wouldn’t stop squeezing. He prayed that Tony made it here okay.

Tossing his phone onto his bed, he hefted himself up to his feet and shuffled out of his room. It took him much too long to descend on jellied legs down the stairs, fighting back wave after wave of nauseating terror. By the time he made it to the kitchen, he was even more of a mess than he'd been before. His face was a reddened streak of tears, full-body tremors making it near-impossible to get a glass of water. He didn't have time for it anyway; Tony made it in record time and pounded on the door, making Peter jerk. Furiously wiping his eyes, he fumbled to get the door open, then backed up as Tony stormed in.

“What's going on?” he asked at once, taking Peter by the shoulders.

Sniffing, Peter struggled to blink up at him. “Um. I'm not sure.” His breath caught up in his throat and he made a labored attempt to stop himself from bursting into tears again.

“Christ, you look terrible. Have you been crying all this time?”

“Yeah, I—” And then the pain doubled, as an icy realization pierced into Peter’s mind, as real as if it were his own.

_Tony is dead._

It didn't make sense, of course it didn't. Tony was standing _right there._ But the grief keep coming, barreling through his logic, and he flung his arms around Tony before he could stop himself. He was crying again, shoulders wracked with heaving breaths, and every single bone within him ached. “Mr. Stark, Tony, _please_ ,” he whimpered. “Oh god, please don't.”

“Woah, okay.” Tony’s voice was tinged with confusion, but he wrapped his arms around Peter anyway and held him close. Peter had him in a death grip, fingernails hard in the back of his suit jacket, but he didn't have the capacity to tell him not to break his ribs right now. “I'm not leaving ya, kid. I'm right here.”

“You—you—” Peter hiccuped.

“Shhh, don't talk, don’t talk. Just let whatever it is out, and we’ll worry about what's going on after.”

But Peter couldn't. The only thing in his head right now, screaming itself through his synapses, was _Tony is dead_ , _Tony is_ dead. And he hadn't been able to stop it. He hid his face in Tony’s shoulder. “You—you’re—you were dead,” he rasped. “You're dead, it's telling me you're _dead_ , why is it saying that, Mr. Stark, why’re you dead, you can't die.”

“ _Shit_.” Tony gave his chest a gentle push, so that he could cup Peter’s jaw and look him in the eyes. “Look at me, Pete,” he said sternly, curling his fingers around the back of Peter’s neck. “Look. I'm here. I'm right here. You see me. You feel me. I'm not dead, and whatever it is you're feeling, it's _not real._ I _promise_.”

“But—”

“No, no _but’s_ , you hear me?” Running a hand over Peter’s hair, Tony tried to bring him back to the present. “Peter, I'm okay.”

Peter tried, he really did. But all he could see when he looked at Tony was a grave. He shuddered, fresh tears falling. Letting out a hard exhale, Tony pulled him in to his chest again. He held him tighter than he had before, curving a hand protectively around the back of Peter’s head. “Listen to me,” he murmured, low but with an edge of iron. “I'm not dead. I'm not going anywhere. I wouldn't let anything take me from you, not if I have a say in it. ‘Cause you're the kid of the team, and you need someone.” Sighing, he pressed his mouth to the top of Peter’s head. “You're _my_ kid,” he murmured into his hair. “So don’t listen to anything that's telling you that I'd let you go.”

Peter wasn't sure if it was Tony’s actual words or the tone behind it, but slowly, the thing within him started to unravel. It felt as though some foreign part of him was lifting away, letting him sink back into reality, into himself. He breathed through it, still with his face buried in Tony’s shoulder. Gradually, his grip on him loosened and his pulse started to fall. He pulled back, drying his eyes again with his sleeves. “It's…it's better now,” he breathed. “That was… I dunno what that was.”

“Yeah,” Tony replied slowly, “me neither.”

He still looked worried and Peter winced. “Do I look crazy?”

“No more than usual.” Tony managed half a smile. “But, let’s some water in you, okay? I don’t wanna worry about you passing out after…all that.”

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Peter nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, good point.” His throat was tear-ragged and he fully realized, with embarrassing clarity, that he’d just spent however long crying all over Tony Stark. He cleared his throat. “Uh. Thanks for coming, Mr. Stark.”

“Oh no, don’t go goodbye-ing me now, Parker,” Tony returned firmly. “I’m not letting you go off to do whatever spider shit you do after that episode.”

Now Peter had to hold back a bit of a smile. The dark thing inside of him was starting to seem very far away. “Spider shit?”

“ _Hey_.”

“Sorry. Spider stuff? And it wasn’t an ‘episode.’”

“You don’t call calling me, in hysterics over my apparent death, that I knew nothing about, an episode?”

“I… Well, when you put it that way…”

“Yeah, uh-huh. Pack up, kid, we’re leaving soon as you’re ready and get that drink.”

“But I’m not— I have homework.”

“And I have a desk. Let’s go.”


End file.
